I fucked up. And that’s okay.

“You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“… But, what if I’m not? What then?”

Those are the thoughts racing through my head, as I fight back the tears and terror of never knowing if today will be the day that I relapse.

Sometimes … it’s just nice.

Sometimes it’s just: Nice to wear makeup and straighten my hair.Nice to be out in the fresh air, doing ‘normal’ things.Nice to go on a group play date, and the other mums have zero clue I’ve been in bed crashing for most of the last 3 days.Nice to feel vaguely human again after said crash.Nice…